A More Fantastic Regeneration
by TheMusicMan1995
Summary: A re-imagining of John Hurt's regeneration in Day Of The Doctor. Now with 67% more Christopher Eccleston


**A/N: Yeah, so... I was quite disappointed in the 50th when Christopher Eccleston didn't make a cameo. I mean, other than that two second "And now for my next trick" stock footage. So here is my re-imagining. The War Doctor regenerating into Nine and being welcomed by none other than his next two incarnations.**

* * *

"I'm not going to remember any of this, am I?"

Eleven considered his words as he glanced at the aging War Doctor, back to Ten, over to Clara, and back again. For the first time in centuries, the guilt, the shame, the anguish, was all gone. Now that the Doctor knew that his past life hadn't really destroyed Gallifrey, but instead himself and two other incarnations had simply frozen the planet, and in doing so preserving the Time Lords in a single moment, he felt... a sense of hope.

Hope. The one thing that his race had needed most, he had not only given to them, but to himself as well. The Time Lords were not eradicated by the galaxy eater. They were still alive and thriving, somewhere in time and space. Eleven nearly felt a tear coming to his eye, not from the sadness that his past selves would have no memory of their journey together, but from the happiness that his his race, his people, his... family, we still alive.

"No. You won't" was Eleven's only response.

The War Doctor sighed. Reaching up a hand, he stroked his snow-white beard, working to accept his fate.

"Very well." He said after a brief silence.

Although his body was old, the War Doctor still had the look of a young man in his eyes. He briefly sized up his future selves. The oldest, Eleven, who was a wacky, humorous jokester with an unusual obsession with a certain fez. His previous counterpart, Ten, who although he had a humorous side of his own, was much more serious and moody, as indicated by the fact that he had remained silent for the past few minutes.

The man who regrets, and the man who forgets.

"I've seen the person I'm going to become." The War Doctor continued. "And I couldn't be more proud."

A smile was triggered from both the older Doctors, as they extended their hands for a shake with their younger incarnation. The gesture was returned. There was a brief silence as the Doctors stood in admiration of one another before the War Doctor sopke once more.

"Well, I guess I shou-"

The Time Lord's sentence was cut short with the unmistakable hum of regeneration energy. The War Doctor looked down at himself as his body began to glow a brilliant shade of gold, and glanced back up at his furture selves.

"I suppose it makes sense, doesn't it?" He said followed by a brief chuckle.

The aging Doctor closed his eyes, preparing for the change as he had so many times before.

The shade of gold quickly flashed into a blinding hue of white, before fading away, revealing the War Doctor's new body. He was now Number Nine.

* * *

It burned slightly more than it had in the past. The Doctor felt the heat of regeneration surging through his body as it finished reconstructing itself. His memory was gone. He no longer remembered that Gallifrey had not been destroyed, but preserved in a single moment. He no longer remembered that he had not eradicated his own race, but saved it with the help of his future selves. All the Doctor remembered was that his home was gone, because of him.

Nine opened his eyes, expecting to at least be in the comfort of the TARDIS where he could lament his people. What he saw instead, were two eerily similar looking men in front of him, wearing wide smiles on their faces, with a young woman standing back in the distance as though to give them some space. Not only that, but they were not in the TARDIS, but an art gallery in the middle of London. The Doctor had been here a few times before as some of his previous selves, but he'd certainly never regenerated in there. Nine managed to crack a chuckle, which came out sounding as awkward as his vocal cords could manage.

"I've... umm... I've gotta go." was all the Ninth Doctor said as he turned away with the intention of finding his TARDIS. His confusion only increased when he saw not one, but three TARDISes standing against the wall, each one of them in the shape of the police box that his own ship had gotten stuck as all those centuries ago.

Nine, bearing an expression of bewilderment, slowly turned back to the two men who had been standing there, still wearing smiles on their faces. After a brief silence, the Doctor tried to speak,

"Are you...?"

The two men simply nodded their heads. The unspoken truth had been communicated, and with the realization of this, Nine eased up a bit, and began to take a look at his new body.

He was taller, that much was certain. Much taller. He felt around on his face for a moment, trying to get a feel for his new appearance. He had the features of a human in his mid-thirties at least. And the hair. The hair was much shorter than it had been. That would take some getting used to. But after fiddling around with his new body for a moment, Nine realized there were two very honest Time Lords in front of him who could give him a decent depiction of what he looked like.

"Well... come on, don't keep me in suspense. How do I look?"

Ten and Eleven glanced at each other for a moment, before responding in unison,

_"Fantastic."_

Nine smiled, satisfied with their answer. He bid his future selves goodbye before stepping away into his TARDIS. The all-too-familiar hum of the machine echoed through the room for a moment, and then... he was gone. Off to continue the legacy of The Doctor.

"You know," Eleven began after a brief moment of reflection. "I think he was one of my favorites."

"He was a good one, that's for sure." Ten responded unenthusiastically. "But you know something?"

Ten motioned for Eleven to lean in, as though to whisper something in his ear. The older Doctor complied.

"I am _not _going to miss those ears."


End file.
